


Rend Apart the Heavens

by lilithenaltum



Series: All This and Heaven, Too [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Everybody is bi, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Infinity War AU, Loki has a plan, Multi, Nobody stays dead, Original Character(s), Past Bruce/Natasha, Past Jane Foster/Thor, Queening Ain't Easy, Sif Comes Through Clutch, Thor Has a Bad Couple of Days, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Veelan Vilison for President
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithenaltum/pseuds/lilithenaltum
Summary: Part 2 of “All This and Heaven, Too”! Sequel to Shake Down the Stars.“She remembers what he’d promised her in the ballroom, after she’d told him she loved him, after she’d begged him not to break her heart.Its all she has to hold on to right now, when the world is ending and there’s the surviving half of a grieving, homeless people depending on her. She never asked for this crown, but it’s hers now and no matter how heavy, she’s got to bear it. She’s a queen now. She’s got to act the part."Brunnhilde leads the surviving people of Asgard to safety and plays the role of queen while her husband works undercover with Thanos and the Black Order and her brother in law prepares to fight for everything he’s lost.It’s Infinity War, but on my terms.PS: It’s necessary to read Shake Down the Stars before starting this fic.





	Rend Apart the Heavens

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! And I take [coffees](http://ko-fi.com/lilithenaltum) too, if you’d like to buy me a few. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanos accepts Loki's offer of fidelity, though with a little bit of torture to seal the deal. Loki dwells on the promise he'd made his wife to survive at all costs. And Hilde straightens her crown and pushes past her grief to become the queen of Asgard.

Loki had not, in all honesty, expected to actually live during the entire ordeal.

 

And so, his plans have to be adjusted accordingly, things must be rearranged so that he can get to the same conclusion; defeat Thanos, keep the stones safe, save the universe. Simple, really.

 

And yet, the task ahead is so daunting that more than once, he'd thought of simply disappearing and heading the other way, perhaps somewhere in another galaxy, somewhere like Sakaar. He nearly laughs at the thought of that trash heap now, how incredibly insignificant the whole thing is now. In light of everything that's at stake, the thought of conquering any kind of planet, of ruling as any sort of king or dictator takes a far back seat.

 

If he can get through this, if he can live till the very end...

 

He has no taste for domination. Not anymore, not after all he's lost. Oh, he'll get it back, he knows. He'll regain his brother's trust and resurrect those who'd been murdered (brutally, without a chance, without any sort of remorse from the slaughterers), he'll take his revenge on the ones who'd tortured and destroyed and half stitched him back together only to do it again.

 

And he would get back to his Hilde.

 

He'd made her a promise the night she told him she loved him. He'd never given much thought to keeping his promises, only that if things came of accord in a way that he, somehow, did do as he had vowed, he'd gain the glory and trust of those whom he'd swore that promise to. But with Brunnhilde, with his Valkyrie, with his princess and wife, he would do anything to keep his promises to her.

 

_I promise you that I will never stop trying to be what you deserve. I promise I'll never forsake you, I'll never leave your side or let you go. If I break your heart, it won't be of my own doing. And if I die, I promise you I will have done everything in my power to live for you._

 

He couldn't give up now, not even as he languished and suffered in a dark, cold cell designed to break him to pieces. He'd disappeared into the warmest parts of his memories, of happy days at his mother's side, of his brother's smile, of his father's rare instances of praise. He thought of friends now gone, of lovers he remembered fondly, of feasts and parties and stories and adventures through his youth that he held dear to his heart.

 

But most of all, he thought of his wife, of a future by her side, of rebuilding Asgard and starting a family. There was so much riding on his decisions and choices now, and he couldn't break, not when everyone needed him to stay together. And so, though the torture had been brutal to the point of near insanity, he persevered.

 

He'd done it before. He could do it once more, he knew. He was made of stronger stuff than Thanos had given him credit for.

 

And so, after what seemed like eons of pain he would never be able to describe, he'd been summoned to the titan's side. 

 

"I'm impressed," Thanos says, rubbing his chin as he observed Loki's broken, burned and bruised body. "I didn't expect you'd get through this, but perhaps you're not as weak as I'd anticipated. I thought you'd gone soft on me. I'm pleasantly surprised to find you haven't."

 

Loki says not a word. There wasn't anything he could say, least of all without a windpipe that worked nor a tongue. That had been ripped out a while back, though he couldn't remember when. He'd been somewhere lost in a memory of how sweet Hilde's skin was when that little bit of himself had been taken from him. But no sooner did he give this a thought, he could feel the organ begin to re knit itself, as well as the tendons and sinews inside the rest of him. It hurt, especially with no regard to how crude the process was, but he held his cries of pain back and only let himself sigh in relief once the healing was done.

 

"Well?"

 

"My offer still stands, Lord Thanos," he said demurely, his voice a rusty imitation of its usual deep and velvet cadence. He hated that, vainly. He hoped, as he was eyed and inspected, that it'd go back to normal. Hilde did so like his voice.

 

 _Sweetheart_...

 

"I don't guess you expect me to believe that you're in this for the good of all beings. I know how you work, Loki. You've never cared for anything but yourself." There's a sarcastic chuckle and Loki only shrugs. 

 

"I cannot say you're wrong. I only truly hope to be one of the few standing when you complete your mission."

 

"Ah well, I can't really say if you will be."

 

"I imagine I have a much better chance here than I would playing second fiddle to my brother-"

 

"Who's dead." Gods, Loki hoped not. He was banking on the off chance that his nearly indestructible brother could survive a little explosion. "You're king now, aren't you?" Thanos tilts his head and beckons Loki to come closer. He does, though slowly and he grimaces at how utterly sore every square inch of his body is. It could be worse. He could very well still be flayed.

 

"I suppose I am. Though of what, I can't really tell you. There is no Asgard left."

 

"No. But there will be, in time. A shining paradise populated with only enough so there will never be less. I consider this a favor, really, on your behalf. You won't have to ever worry about a famine in your lifetime."

 

Loki nodded and pretended to consider this seriously. In truth, he found the entire ideal absolutely insane; killing half the population of a people to save them from over consumption really only worked in the bleakest, barest of theories. And who had given Thanos the right? He was no god. He never would be. But he held all those thoughts in and after a time, pretended to find the solution to such a problem as justice and mercy incarnate.

 

He had to be careful not to pretty his words too much, however.

 

"It's a...bleak outlook," he started and Thanos, surprisingly, nodded along.

 

"Oh, I've considered that, Prince Loki. It's the only way, though. Sacrifices must be made, it's the law of the universe."

 

Couldn't have been, Loki thought dryly, wondering what in the world Thanos would have ever given up to get this far. He supposed the titan had been inconvienced by the missing Tessaract for some several years, but in truth, what was that to an entire people and one's own family. Nothing. He mentally scoffed but kept his face neutral and thoughtful.

 

"And what sacrifice do you require of me, my lord?"

 

That's what he really wanted to know. There was so much at stake, so much to give up. But no one needed to know that. Thanos thought he'd hated his brother, and had only given the escaping Aesir their way out by virtue of his skewed sense of fairness. He knew nothing at all about Hilde, and Norns help him, he would keep it that way.

 

_Just get to safety, my love, and I will try to figure out the rest._

 

"Oh, I do believe you've sacrificed quite enough. At least for right now." With that, the titan turned back toward his viewport, wordlessly dismissing Loki, who bowed and walked on unsteady feet toward where Proxima and Corvus wait for him.

 

"To your chambers, Prince Loki," Proxima hisses, the dark of her unsettling eyes boring holes in his skull. If there was anyone in the Order he found gave him the shivers it was her. And Ebony Maw, but he preferred to not even think of that creature. Thank whomever he was off running around on Earth after another stone; he really didn't have the constitution to deal with Maw.

 

Completely expecting to be thrown back into the dark, cold, and deep, he steadied himself and started preparing to slip back into his mind. He ran through a long list of beautiful things to keep him sane and occupied; making love to Hilde for the first time that night on the Ark, the way she'd taken him on the dining room floor of Siri's estate, the glimmer in her eye when she ran through the multitude of languages he knew.

 

Hide and seek, maybe? Maybe. The entire ordeal _after_ was laughable now, and he could look back on that with some shred of humor.

 

Ah, but the honeymoon...he could dwell on that to infinity, of her body warming the bed beside him for three days, baths and lunches and gasping moaning declarations of love and devotion. And the raspy confession she'd given him one night, after they'd worn themselves out, of wanting to bear his children sometime soon. 

 

He'd begun thinking up baby names that night. He figured he could do it right now. That would keep the pain at bay.

 

But instead of another bout of torture as he'd expected, he was given a relatively comfortable bunk and a tray of rations, alongside a pitcher of what he could only guess was wine. It wasn't very good wine, and the food tasted like sawmill but he hadn't eaten in however long he'd been here. He dared to ask his hostess, who observed him for a long, tense minute as though he were a fly and she a spider.

 

"Three days," she said simply, and then his door was shut tight.

 

As expected, it was locked. There was no handle on the door, so he'd be resigned to staying in his quarters until he was so needed again. He had anticipated that and so the lack of freedom to move about the ship caused him no great alarm. Instead, he found it almost a respite from the supposed three days of pain and suffering he'd been through.

 

Norns, it'd felt like so much longer.

 

With a sigh, he swung his aching legs up on the bunk and lay back against the hard mattress, staring towards the endless dark ceiling as he ran through all the preparations he'd made. Things had been set in order; it was simply a matter of letting things happen as they should. And then, when everything was lined up the way it should be, he would strike. In the meantime, he'd have to play the part of duplicitous and beaten, a terrified sniveling little coward who used whomever he could to get ahead and survive.

 

Perhaps that was the Loki that Thanos had known, but it wasn't the Loki he was now. He'd assumed that Loki would be an unchanging, ever predictable little snake, but that assumption would be his undoing. _You could be so much more_ , Loki hears in his head, and sees his brother's kind face in his minds eye. He would prove Thor true. He would make him proud.

 

No sooner had he contemplated all this did his wedding ring warm and glow. He lifted his hand and eked out a cracked, crooked smile. So she'd found the little enchantment he'd placed on her ring, then. The thought made his heart both ache and swell. His Hilde had probably gone three days without knowing if he was alive or dead. He hated to think of her in so much pain, scared and angry and alone in space with 2500 terrified Aesir refugees to care for.

 

But at least he knew she was alive. 

 

 

He closed his eyes then, letting his mind drift until the dull aches in his body disappeared and all he could feel was warmth, blue skies, brown eyes, soft skin. It would be some time before he had the strength to come to her in dreams, the way he'd enchanted the ring to allow. Until then, he'd have to make do with memories and the knowledge that she waited for him.

 

Loki pressed his hand to his mouth and let the warmth of the glowing ring seep through him, all the way down to the chill of his bones. He craved her voice, her touch, her smile, her laugh, her eyes. He wanted to hold her, to let her know he would be alright-or, if not quite alright, at least he would live. He'd make sure of that. He'd _promised_ her.

 

Loki Odinson had never given much thought to promises, but right now that promise was one of the only things driving him to survive.

 

And survive he would.

 

* * *

 

 _Norns_ , she was tired.

 

She had thought she'd known exhaustion before, thought she'd known grief and uncertainty. And she had, once upon a time, after crawling out from under the dead body of her lover, after trekking across the galaxy and finding herself captured and deposited on the trash dump that was Sakaar. Weary was spending night after night chained up and anticipating death. Grief was trying her hardest to drink the memory of Gunnr and all her sisters away. Uncertainty was not knowing how she'd live again after all that, though somehow she had, and for over 1000 years.

 

But this was something else entirely. 

 

Brunnhilde leaned against the cool view port of the Commodore, eyes bloodshot and aching, and stared into the unknown. She had no idea where they would go, or what they would do when they'd fled the broken, near incapacitated Ark. She hadn't even known if she would ever make it past the firing cannons and guns that threatened to rend her ship and the pods that followed apart. But somehow, some way, they had cleared the immediate danger and were drifting back to the only place they could-Umbreon.

 

There wasn't much food, aside for a handful of rations that were possibly expired, and just enough fuel to last them four days. The Ark had rumbled past the trading moon at hyper speed upon their departure, clearing the atmosphere in less than a day instead of the standard two. But the Ark was behind them, most likely blown to bits by their attackers. Hilde could only pray and hope that eventually, the damaged comm lines would work so they could radio for help. Who, she wondered, was out there to help was something she hadn't been able to imagine. They had no one. They were all alone.

 

It was eerily quiet on the Commodore. Everyone but she and Jorna were asleep, the latter trying desperately to patch the fried wiring of the comm system. The only noises were the purr of the engines and her shallow, pained breathing. Her stomach ached with hunger and her chest still burned from inhaling too much toxic smoke. She pressed the ragged, slow dripping wound on her thigh and closed her eyes, desperately trying to summon a little bit of her newly awakened seidr to heal the cut faster. But it seeped out in slow trickles, likely from the stress of having to flee so abruptly, of being taxed almost beyond what she could handle. She sighed, and let the warmth of the magic within her slip away; she would live, that was for sure. The gash would leave a scar and she would need to keep an eye on it for fear of infection.

 

At least there was a first aid kit on this damned ship, unless of course, Agatha had commandeered that too. The injuries among  the evacuees had been few, but with so little supplies to go around, every little bit of what they had to exist on counted. And Heimdall would need the most of those supplies, badly injured to the point that Hertha had to put him in a seidr induced coma to keep him stable. She couldn't lose her old friend, not when she was so perilously close to losing everything again. 

 

They'd already lost so very much.

 

It'd been three days since they'd left the site of the attack. One more day of fuel to sustain them, until they'd simply be drifting about like flowers in a breeze. The rations had gotten dangerously low, as well, from the reports she'd been given via Lir and Alfhilde. In truth, she didn't expect them to survive past a week out her alone. But she had to try. They deserved that much at least.

 

Gods, how she wish that Loki or Thor were here. She still had Siriana, thank the Norns, and Korg had been both a godsend and a great help. But her people had lost so much and she was no replacement for the king nor the prince. She never would be, no matter the sparkling starred tiara she wore on her head. It was hidden now, dulled and dimmed in her exhaustion. She had no real reason to wear it openly, especially not at a time like this. It seemed cruel to flaunt the title she'd gained a little less than a week before.

 

Princess of Asgard. No, she remembered bitterly, _Queen_. She wasn't ready for any of this, though she had tried and prepared herself to take on the mantle of princess. But then, upon the assumption that Thor and Loki both were dead-she'd seen the ship explode behind her as the Commodore veered away from danger-she was the de facto Queen, in all but name if you were to ask her. She'd never been born for this role, had no experience in leading or ruling. She had always only looked out for herself, especially after the Fall.

 

But she'd promised him...she'd _promised_.

 

And so too, had he. Though the very thought of him being dead made her insides twist and hurt in ways she had never wanted to feel again, she held on to the tiny little hope that he wouldn't let her down. 

 

"I won't survive this," he'd said, as the ship came crashing down around them, as she had to make the impossible decision to leave him and half her people to a fate gruesome and terrifying. "But I will come back to you."

 

She repeated that promise in her head over and over, when the terror threatened to overwhelm her. He would reverse the damage done, fix what was broken, regain what was lost. And, she hoped, he would rain vengeance on those who had hurt and harmed them when all was said and done. She relished the idea of revenge, of helping him destroy those who had tried to destroy her. All would be well one day, she told herself, eyes prickling with tears. She would make it to Umbreon alive, find refuge, regain her strength. She would lead the grieving and the scared to safety and then she would take her leave and find her husband's killer and tear him apart with her bare hands. And she would avenge Thor's sacrifice, so long as the Allfathers willed it.

 

Rage gave her courage. Rage made her determined. She picked up the first aid kit underneath the seat of the pilot's chair and doctored her wounds, grimacing only a little as she stitched up the gash without anything to give her comfort. Comfort wasn't what she needed. She needed strength, and as she pushed out the needle through her flesh one last time, a breath leaving her injured lungs as she finished, she resolved to hold fast and be the queen that Loki had thought she could be.

 

There's a moment then, when the lights of the Commodore blink off, and she holds her breath, eyes darting around the ship as her blood fills with ice. Within a moment, though, the lights pop back on and the crackle of the comm sounds off. She lets out the breath she'd held, closing her eyes in relief. 

 

"They should be up and running!" she hears from the service room, soot on the face of young Jorna as she plops exhausted into one of the bunks. The girl lets out a half mad chuckle and presses her dirty hands into her eyes, leaning back against the hard wall of the bunk. Hilde gets up with a grunt and limps over to where she sits, gathering her hands in her own as Jorna begins to cry.

 

"Oh Norns, I don't know if it'll be enough," she half whispers, leaning into HIlde's good side. "I don't know, Mistress, I...I've done all I can."

 

"Shhh, Jorna. It's enough." She strokes the girl's hair and lets her sob, holding her fast to her until she's wrung herself dry. If Hilde had lost a husband and a brother, then Jorna has lost everyone, the only person in her family on the survivor's ship. Little Endre had been killed in the first blasts, along with his mother and grandmother. And to think;  just a week before, they'd all played hide and seek on the lost Ark, happy and hopeful and full of life. It's a dark, bleak reminder of how fragile and unsure life is. 

 

For a few minutes, she simply sits and listens to the silence around her. Jorna's tears had only fueled her rage more, stoking a fire that would turn into an inferno if something didn't give soon. She thinks of her Loki and tells herself once more that she trusts in him, that he'd always find a way, somehow. Death was only a roadblock, especially to the crafty, cunning, wily man that was her husband. That thought makes her smile.

 

She remembers what he’d promised her in the ballroom, after she’d told him she loved him, after she’d begged him not to break her heart.

 

Its all she has to hold on to right now, when the world is ending and there’s the surviving half of a grieving, homeless people depending on her. She never asked for this crown, but it’s hers now and no matter how heavy, she’s got to bear it. She’s a queen now. She’s got to act the part. Hilde twists her wedding ring and closes her eyes again, just to take the edge off, just to rest them a bit.

 

And then, the damned thing warms. She blinks open her eyes and stares at the ring, the blue and silver and green glowing a soft gold around her hand. It stuns her to inaction, until she twists it once more and it does the same thing. And then again. And again.

 

And then the realization of what this ring is doing dawns on her and she nearly starts to laugh. But Jorna is finally resting beside her and she doesn't want to wake any of the tired people on the ship, so she settles for a silent shake of her shoulders, a grin that splits her chapped, bloody lips. He's alive, her Loki. He'd given her a way to know.

 

Clever little shit. Gods, she loved him.

 

Hilde twists the ring once more, holding her breath until it warms and glows and she can breathe again. It buoys her for a little while more, and she lifts her chin, straightens her spine, and pushes her fear deep down to the dark crevices of her mind. Thor may very well still be alive then too, she thinks, and perhaps everything they'd lost would be found once more, quicker than anticipated. It stirred her to action, and she gets up slowly, hobbles over to the patched comm system. It's working, though not as strongly as it should but it's enough. She starts with a message to the pods behind her, sucking in a breath of relief to hear Agatha's voice on the other end. And then she calls out to Siri, in another pod, then to Hertha, and Lir, and finally, Korg.

 

"Everyone's shaken, of course, but ya know, we'll all be alright." Hilde snorted. Shaken was the understatement of the century, but it wasn't in Korg's nature to be negative, even in the most dire of situations. 

 

"I'm going to reach out to Umbreon, if I can," she tells him, and he gives her an affirmative, letting her know that he was doing his best to keep everyone as calm and assured as he could. She had a feeling he was doing a rather stellar job.

 

The first few signals go out without any response. She spaces them by a few minutes and waits, breath baited and shallow, to see if anyone will respond. After the sixth, she decides to stop for now, rest a few hours and perhaps nibble on a little bit of a ration bar. She could try again later, when her head wasn't spinning from hunger and her hands didn't shake so much. It was so cold on the ship, the climate control turned off in favor of conserving as much fuel as humanely possible. She dug around and wrapped a blanket about her shoulders, wincing when the cut on her side was disturbed.

 

But before her eyes could close, she heard a crackle on the other end. 

 

"Oh Norns, please, _please_ ," she says under her breath and she picked up the comm, nearly dropping it in haste.

 

"Yes! Can you hear me? This is Brunnhilde, Queen of Asgard, captain of the Commodore speaking. We need help! Can you hear me? There's a few thousand injured and hungry people in several escape pods behind me, please!"

 

She waits then, counts the very long seconds until she gets a response that makes her cry in relief.

 

"Hilde? Hilde, come in, it's me!"

 

"Fuckin' hell!" she wails, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she hears a voice she didn't know she'd be so thankful to hear. "Veelan, is it you?"

**Author's Note:**

> Come holler at me on tumblr! lilithenaltum, as always.


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